From the slight sounds that had reached him in his place of confinement, he was aware that some persons had found their way to the scene of slaughter, and in a state of the most intense anxiety awaited the result of their investigation, prepared for the worst. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES FROM THE PHOTOPLAY PRODUCED BY DISTINCTIVE PICTURES CORPORATION NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS THE RAGGED EDGE CHAPTER I The Master is inordinately fond of young fools. Why not? Imagine I’ve had a fit of hysteria—and that I’ve come round. Mirages, over which he was constantly throwing bridges which were wasted efforts, since invariably they spanned solid ground.
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